


The Bargeman's Family

by The_Empress_of_Everything



Series: the many lives of Eden Elric [15]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Family Drama, Female Edward, Female Edward Elric, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Rule 63, genderbent, other characters not mentioned in tags, rule 63 Edward Elric, this is such a self indulgent fic, too many Dwarves for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Empress_of_Everything/pseuds/The_Empress_of_Everything
Summary: The Bargeman’s family is odd but comforting at the same time. Though now they understand the fear that had flashed across his face at the very beginning of this mess. She is a terror and then some.





	The Bargeman's Family

**Author's Note:**

> There may be some weird tense stuff somewhere in here but pls ignore. I decided to change tenses 3/4 of the way through this and then back again and I’m still not sure if I caught them all. But idgaf. It's been fighting me for months so I’m glad to finally get it done and out.
> 
> Also with how much I’ve written her, I think Eden Elric belongs to me at this point. Yes? Okay thank you. She’s mine. Exclusive rights. All mine. Please and thank.
> 
> I'm happy to finally be posting this story and it feels good to post in 10 minutes after midnight on the New Year. Happy 2018, y'all.

After wandering through the dammed Elvish forest ( _they had_ ** _not_** _gotten lost, don’t listen to Gloin he’s full of shit, Thorin never got lost_ ), getting locked up and half starved by the pointy-eared tree shaggers, and _then_ getting dumped down a river in barrels while being shot and nearly killed by orcs, the last thing Thorin wanted to do was listen to Balin play nice with the human with the boat. 

They desperately needed the boat, but still. Playing nice with humans never ended well for Dwarves.

“Those boots have seen better days, I think. You must have some hungry mouths to feed at home?”

The man nods absently. “Two girls and a boy, fine strapping children. A father’s pride and joy.” He looked right at them, eyes flicking toward Fili and Kili, then back to Thorin. Briefly, something like…understanding flashed through his eyes. His assumption was wrong but inwardly, Thorin appreciated and acknowledged the sentiment. He knew the face of someone struggling to raise a family and provide for them in this harsh world. Even if this was a Man, some understandings crossed racial boundaries.

“And your wife, I bet she’s a beauty?”

Bard paused in coiling the rope, the faintest smirk crossing his lips as he pondered Balin’s question. “My wife? A beauty? Oh aye, that she is. She’s a beauty and then some.”

It seems speaking of his family has put the Man in a much more agreeable mood. He accepted their payment with little haggling and waved them aboard his barge. Though for the briefest moment, Balin could have sworn something like utter fear and realization passed over Bard’s face. The expression is gone as soon as it comes, though.

There isn't a Dwarf among the company, except perhaps Balin, who trusted Bard the Bargeman. They’d been used and abused by humans too much to ever truly trust them again. Bilbo seemed inclined to trust him, lured by the promise of food. Like a true Hobbit, he thought with his stomach. After two weeks of near starvation in Thranduil’s palace, he felt like he was justified in this.

Passing through the gates of Laketown is undoubtedly one of the more stressful moments of Bilbo’s career as a burglar. The Dwarves’ nearly giving them away after hearing how they were seemingly sold out caused any number of gray hairs to appear on Bilbo’s head, there was no doubt about it. The sneaking through Laketown was just as awful. It is touching to see the other townfolk helping Bard out without understand what was going on; though it made Bilbo wonder just how bad living conditions must be under the Master of Laketown for them to behave like this.

Being forced to swim and surface in a toilet is just a low blow. Bilbo suspects foul play. That, or the Bargeman has a sense of humor.

“Da, why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet? And why do they smell like fish?” The look on the older girl’s face as they emerge from the lake is one of dawning horror and disgust. Thorin met her eyes briefly and she simply looked stunned. He averts his gaze quickly.

“Will they bring us luck?” A little girl’s voice pipes eagerly. 

“I _highly_ doubt that, love. They’re more likely to bring a mess and eat us out of house and home. Now Tilda and Sigrid, be good girls and fetch all the towels you can find. I get the feeling we’re going to need them.” An older woman’s dry voice carried easily over the clatter and banging of the Company of Thorin. “Bain, darling? Where's your Da?”

The Dwarves stumble in just as she asked the question. They are greeted by the sight of a tiny woman, barely taller than a dwarf, gold hair piled up on her head and her arms wrapped around a child nearly the same height as her. The little girl vanished after the taller one as they enter. Kili felt a shudder run down his spine. He’d heard that type of voice before; sickly sweet, no doubt said with a bone-chilling smile with murder flashing in enraged eyes. He’d heard his mother use it toward Uncle Thorin on more than one occasion and Uncle had barely escaped with his life.

He suddenly felt a surge of pity for the Bargeman. Those sparking, uncanny gold eyes promised a great deal of rage contained within such a tiny woman.

A young boy dressed in fur and leather, ( _impossible to tell the age on these humans_ ), popped out of nowhere to stand before the much smaller woman. “Da is tying up the barge, Mam. He’ll be right up to explain,” he said. His mother fixed him with a look Kili recognized instantly: sheer maternal vexation. The boy tried to shy away from her absentminded swat with very little luck.

“Oh, I have no doubt he’ll be right in.” Her face twists in irritation and ill-concealed exhaustion as she looks over the Dwarves. She’s annoyed but doesn’t seem all that surprised at this abrupt turn of events. “Sigrid? Do you have the towels? I don't want my floors any more soaked than they need to be, especially if they’re going to be staying the night.” 

The two girls had slipped away and now reappeared, arms overflowing with linen. Their mother accepts them gracefully and, planting her hands on her hips, begins directing her offspring like a general commanding her army. “Tilda, go and put the kettle on. While you’re in there, start slicing a loaf of bread. Sigrid, get me enough vegetables from the storeroom to fill the largest pot for stew. Heaven knows we’re going to need a full pot tonight,” she grumbled. “Bain, take this note to your uncle, let him know we have unexpected company and cannot make it to supper, give him my apologies,” here she paused to scribble a hasty note, passing it off to her son. “And Bard, don't even _think_ of trying to slip out without an explanation for me.” 

Bard froze just as he entered the tiny kitchen. Coming home after smuggling an entire company of Dwarves through rather strong security only to be confronted by an angry wife upon his return undoubtedly made the man wish _he_ was the one facing the dragon, rather than the Company of Thorin. Collectively, the Dwarves felt a tiny surge of pity for the human.   
This is not going to be a pleasant night.

They settled in, well out of the way of the family, accepting towels from the mistress of the house, who moved about with a slight limping grace and a pinched look in her eyes. The family moved with ease in the cramped quarters; Sigrid and Tilda passing in and out of the small kitchen, bringing steaming mugs and bowls of tea to the Dwarves and murmuring with their mother while Bard stayed well out of the way of his quietly angry wife. Bain reappeared and retreated with his sisters when it was clear their mother didn’t need them in the kitchen any longer. Bard saw this as his chance and slipped back into his wife’s line of sight. 

( _Dori did note that the large, razor sharp knife only appeared in her hand when Bard moved into the kitchen.)_

“What can I help with, Eden?”

“How about staying well out of my way, hmm, darling husband?”

Everyone in the house could feel the undercurrent of tension between the married couple, though neither seemed willing to broach the subject of said tension in front of their children and unexpected house guests.

“Is Mam going to make Da sleep in the barge again?” The younger of the two girls asked her siblings, a knowing look on her face. The other children considered the question. 

“Probably,” Bain said with a sigh. “I should go see if we have any extra blankets left for him.” 

Bilbo smiled at them, rather amused at the turn of the conversation, as were most of the Dwarves. “Does your Mam make your Da sleep outside often?” He inquired. The oldest girl, Sigrid if he remembered correctly, shook her head. 

“Mam only makes Da sleep outside when she’s _slightly_ annoyed with him. When she’s _really_ angry, she doesn’t talk to him and cleans the house from top to bottom. Da sleeps over at Uncle’s then. He knows not to bother her when she’s in a mood.”

“Sometimes she yells,” Tilda said, eyes wide and impressed. She clearly held her mother in high estimation. “Mam’s yelling voice is loud and makes the neighbors bang on the wall.” Sigrid shot her sister a quelling look. “Mam won’t yell if we have guests, she at least has manners. If anything, she’ll just ignore Da until it drives him crazy. Quit telling tales, Tilda.”

The Dwarves, even Thorin, looked toward the Bargeman’s wife. Her back was to her husband, her movements sharp and quick as she chopped vegetables. He watched her back with a look of weary long-suffering.

“I pity those carrots,” Dwalin murmured to Thorin. The Dwarven king winced along with him as the woman swung her knife with more force than was necessarily needed, neatly decapitating a turnip.

They fell into an awkwardly peaceful silence while the lady of the house prepared supper and ignored her husband. Ori had pulled out his journal that had somehow survived the river, the orcs, Thranduil’s guards, the forest, and the spiders. Bifur had long since begun carving, shutting out the rest of the world. Many of the Company took advantage of the lull to look about their temporary hiding place. 

The house was small, neatly divided into a kitchen, tiny living space that they currently occupied, and two curtained rooms off to the left of the main area. Two small fireplaces crackled merrily, a bright spot in the dark and damp of Laketown. There was a ladder that led to a small loft set above those rooms. It was a well lived in space. Herbs hung in bunches from almost every spare head space, the window nearest to the fire had cushions in the sill and small sewing baskets tucked underneath a table. All of them avoided sitting in the chair right in front of the fire, even the children. 

They all knew who that chair belonged to.

It wasn’t a palace, held no comparison to Erebor or the Blue Mountains or even the Shire. But neither was it shabby. The children’s clothing was worn but well-mended and taken care of, with no hint of raggedness that might bring disgrace to their family. Eden obviously ran a tight household, managing her husband’s earnings wisely to ensure their children grew up in a happy, safe home. And it felt like _home_. The house wasn’t what they were used to; there were no stone walls, no gold decorations, or elaborate carvings. But there was peace, happiness, and love in abundance, something worth more than all the gold in Erebor. 

The tension eases as good smells begin wafting through the house. Tilda giggled as she heard Dwarf bellies rumbling in hunger. She hopped up to hurry and help her mother ladle out and serve the meal, her sister not more than a step behind. On one pass through to the kitchen, Bifur stops her to press a small carving in her hand. In her hand was a perfectly replicated image of her and her mother. Tilda flashes him a broad smile.  

Only after the Dwarves are served does the Bargeman’s family sit down to eat themselves. The adults remained in the kitchen while the children found any open space. Fili and Bofur hastily leapt up to offer Sigrid and Tilda their seats.

As they settled in to enjoy their meal, Tilda swung her legs as she calmly ate her stew. “Even if you are in trouble, you’ll be fine here, Mr. Dwarf. The Master watches our family so we have to be careful, but they don’t mess with us when Da is gone. The last time the Master sent someone here while Da was gone, Mam tossed him into the river and the chamber pot after him,” she confided to Nori, a gleeful look crossing her face. “They don't bother us when Da is gone any more, _nuh uh_!” Half the Company bit their lips in unison, trying not to burst out laughing at the overt glee the tiny human was exuding. Thorin and Balin frowned at each other, however, noting the way both the Bargeman and his wife tensed when Tilda spoke of being watched by the Master. “I want to be just like Mam when I grow up,” she sighs dreamily, absentmindedly almost shoving a chunk of parsnip up her nose. Sigrid rescues her before the parsnip makes it there.

“Da says Mam is a better warrior than him and he’s lucky he has her to protect us,” Bain piped up. All three of Bard’s children clearly adored their tiny spitfire mother, with good reason. She seemed to have a fearsome persona lurking behind the facade of gentle housewife and loving mother. 

Every Dwarf in the room makes a mental note not to ever, under any circumstances, cross this tiny human woman with the uncanny eyes.

* * *

The children are in bed, the Dwarves settled as well as they could be by the fire, in the loft, near the windows, under the kitchen table; practically any space the Bargeman’s family wasn’t occupying, there were Dwarves and a lone Hobbit.

Within the tiny space of their bedroom, Bard watches her pace. Five steps to the window, eight steps to the top of the bed, three steps sideways to the curtained door, over and over again until she finally bursts. Eighteen years of marriage and he can predict her behavior almost to the moment she’ll act.

“Dwarves, Bard. _Dwarves_. What in _heaven’s name_ compelled you to bring them into our home?” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Eden…” he begins placatingly. “Dearest, I had to.” 

“No you didn’t, Bard! And that’s the worst part!” Her arms wave about wildly, punctuating her every word.

“What happened to ‘help those who can’t help themselves’, Eden? Besides, they paid me with coin, this will help us.”

Bard poured the Dwarves’ hard-earned coins into the hands of his wife. She stared at them, the gold and silver reflecting in her eyes. 

“What am I supposed to do with these, Bard? The entirety of Laketown knows we’re too poor to pay with gold coin. I’ll have the Master's henchmen banging down our door if they see I’m paying with these coins, when I could barely afford to buy flour last week. And then what?” She dropped the coins back onto the table next to their bed. She ignored the way they clatter and bounce, ignoring how the mere possession of them could help raise their family from poverty and give their children a better life. Her hands, now empty, move to clutch at his jacket. “I can only protect our children for so long. If you keep endangering them by smuggling Dwarves into Laketown, even _I_ won't be able to protect us.”

“What about your brother? He's just as strong as you are, Eden.” 

Eden released her husband and stepped back, shaking her head. “Alphonse is strong, yes, but strong in a different way. His injuries won’t allow him to fight any more. You know the Master watches us, watches our entire family. He’s looking for any chance to arrest you, on any charges. Bard, this _has_ to stop. I know the good man in you wants to help them, but we _can’t_.”

“Eden, what happened to the woman I married? The one who threatened to stab me in the face if I didn’t tell her what happened to her brother when she first arrived in Laketown? Where did that Eden go?”

“No, you don’t get to pull this on me.” She glares up at him from all of her height of 160 cm. “We have _children_ now,” Eden stresses. Her face, from what he can see in the dim light of their room, is paler than her dark complexion should be. “We…we can’t just act like we’re young again, taking risks and thumbing our noses at the Master. Whether we like it or not, he controls everything. I may be tired of living in fear, but I don’t want to live in a world without you in it. And that’s what will happen if the Master gets wind of what’s going on here.” Her fingers brushed against his face, tracing the planes of the face she loved so much. Bard stood still under her scrutiny, only catching her hand when it brushed against his lips. He kissed the back of it, suddenly overwhelmed with love for her.  

“You’re incorrigible,” she whispered.

“But you love me, darling.”

“Against my better judgement, yes I do.” Her smile blunts the sharpness of her words. “Help me out of my dress?” He obliged, making quick work of her laces. Once her dress is gone, tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed, she leaned back against him. The tremors wracking her body couldn’t be hidden. Not from him. “Bard…I’m frightened. I’m afraid of what this Company brings. What if the dragon isn’t dead? What if their attempt to take back the mountain wakes the dragon? We all know what happened to Dale.” Her shudder carried deep into his bones. Eden was rarely scared by anything. For her to tremble and shake so meant she was truly terrified of the prospects to come.

Bard wrapped his arms tighter around his wife. He had no words of comfort to offer her. For the moment, and the foreseeable future, he could only hold her tightly.

* * *

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Every Dwarf prepared to head out the door froze in place. Gold hair now hanging in a loose braid over her nightclothes, Eden stood there before them, blocking the doorway. Her eyes flicked over them, seeing their replaced clothes, the grim looks on their faces. Her own face darkened in an ugly way. Hands curling convulsively, she ground out, “So this is how it is? We offer you shelter, smuggle you in at great risk to ourselves, feed you, and _this_ is how you repay us?”

“We paid him for transportation and weapons, not the joke he offered us earlier,” Gloin growled. 

“And? You were given transport and offered weapons. You just chose not to take them. Stealing from the armory will not only alert the Master to your presence, but whatever you do will affect my children.” 

“How does that concern us, woman?” Even Gloin winced at Dwalin’s callousness.

“Because the Master will know exactly who helped you.” Her chin tipped up, proud yet oddly mournful at the same time. “My husband is an honorable man. All of Laketown knows this. So Dwarves showing up in Laketown, here to reclaim their lost mountain? Aided by someone in Laketown? Bard will be his first and only suspect in this affair. And the Master shows no mercy to those he considers traitors.”

“Your leader thinks so poorly of him?” Thorin wasn't impressed by this assessment of the Master of Laketown. 

She shrugged lightly. “With the blood my husband has, yes. Yes, he does.” Eden met Thorin’s eyes with frightening intensity. She did not look at him as a subject asking for a favor, but rather as an equal. “Please, for the sake of my children, do not raid the Master’s armory.”

The Company held silent as Thorin and Eden regarded each other. 

There was stunned silence filling the room as Thorin acquiesces, bowing his head slightly to the relieved mother. They slunk back to their sleeping places, shocked by his uncharacteristic behavior but none dared question him. 

Bard’s house slept on in untroubled peace.

* * *

In the wee hours of the next morning, the Company of Thorin, consisting of thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit, vanished across the gently lapping waves of Laketown toward Erebor. 

Standing at their window was Bard and his wife Eden, watching their departure. Whatever fate the Dwarves brought upon the town with their waking of the Dragon, the tiny family had thrown their lot in with them by their actions. Only time would tell how the dice fell.

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a self indulgent fic. If anyone reads it, I'll be shocked.


End file.
